“What Work Is” was featured in the 2010 UW Common Book, You Are Never Where You Are. Since 2006 the UW has chosen one book for all freshmen to read. This year’s book marks two major firsts: It is the first Common Book to focus on poetry and the first original anthology—the 15 poems in the book appear together nowhere else. To read more of the poems, visit www.washington.edu/uaa/commonbook/.

Past Common Books include: Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, a Man Who Would Cure the World by Tracy Kidder, Field Notes from a Catastrophe: Man, Nature, and Climate Change by Elizabeth Kolbert, The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea and Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama.

What Work Is

By Philip Levine

We stand in the rain in a long line
waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work.
You know what work is—if you’re
old enough to read this you know what
work is, although you may not do it.
Forget you. This is about waiting,
shifting from one foot to another.
Feeling the light rain falling like mist
into your hair, blurring your vision
until you think you see your own brother
ahead of you, maybe ten places.
You rub your glasses with your fingers,
and of course it’s someone else’s brother,
narrower across the shoulders than
yours but with the same sad slouch, the grin
that does not hide the stubbornness,
the sad refusal to give in to
rain, to the hours wasted waiting,
to the knowledge that somewhere ahead
a man is waiting who will say, “No,
we’re not hiring today,” for any
reason he wants. You love your brother,
now suddenly you can hardly stand
the love flooding you for your brother,
who’s not beside you or behind or
ahead because he’s home trying to
sleep off a miserable night shift
at Cadillac so he can get up
before noon to study his German.
Works eight hours a night so he can sing
Wagner, the opera you hate most,
the worst music ever invented.
How long has it been since you told him
you loved him, held his wide shoulders,
opened your eyes wide and said those words,
and maybe kissed his cheek? You’ve never
done something so simple, so obvious,
not because you’re too young or too dumb,
not because you’re jealous or even mean
or incapable of crying in
the presence of another man, no,
just because you don’t know what work is.

What a feeling it is. To have a poem speak out to you. To know that there are others out there just like you. Being a away from family, being away from your home, and trying to find that job that does not exist. I miss my brother.

YES!! Too many people have told me recently that they don’t read poetry, don’t like poetry etc. Perhaps this will raise the consciousness of a host of young people who might otherwise grow into adults who don’t know/like poetry.